Towards evening I went to Johnny Pritchard's tent and
asked him to buy me. He said he had been trying all day but could not
succeed, however he expected to strike a bargain before night. He had
only one horse and the Indians wanted two horses for me. As good luck
would have it, he got Nolin--another half-breed--to give the second
horse. It was all they had and yet they willingly parted with that
_all,_ to save me from inhuman treatment, and even worse than a
hundred deaths. There was a slight relief in knowing that I was out of
the power of the painted devil that held me, since my husband's death.
But we were far from safe. Pritchard took me to his own tent, and
placed me with his wife and family. There I felt that if there existed
any chance of an escape at all I would be able to take advantage of
it. I fully trusted to Pritchard's manliness and good character, and I
was not deceived. He not only proved himself a sincere friend and a
brave fellow, but he acted the part of a perfect gentleman,
throughout, and stands, ever since, in my estimation the type of God's
noblest creatures--A TRULY GOOD MAN.
For three weeks I was watched, as a cat would watch a mouse. All night
long the Indians kept prowling about the tent, coming in, going out,
returning; they resembled, at times, a pack of wolves skulking around
their prey, and, at times, they appeared to resemble a herd of demons
as we see them represented in tho most extravagant of frightful
pictures.
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